


New Poetry

by Conspiracy



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Abuse, Choking, Gore, M/M, oh god im bad at tagging things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1234567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conspiracy/pseuds/Conspiracy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know I love you, but you might be the death of me. </p>
<p>//named for the song I was listening to when I wrote it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> based off this post on tumblr http://hotfictionalboys.co.vu/post/77736602756/mothsona-stupid-vent-doodles
> 
> and obviously the song new poetry by innerpartysystem

Slim, cool, fingers wrapped around his neck, well manicured nails once more digging into the grooves they had created for themselves over time, and Trip couldn't help but reflect on how it always seemed to end up like this. 

Not that he would ever complain; no, this was a ritual, one he looked forward to as much as he did dining on fancy cakes, as much as a more religious man would visiting his particular place of worship. 

Merely the fact that he was interesting enough for someone like Virus, beautiful, ethereal, Virus, to lay hands upon made the days or even weeks of pain that would follow, the discomfort that would occur when his left eye swelled completely shut and the bruises painted a dark picture across his torso, completely worth it.

After all, the natural blonde did nothing he didn't assess to be 'fun'. It was evidenced that this was just a game to him by the fact that there was no rage behind the blows that cascaded upon his frame, or even in the hands that even now sought to choke the life out of him, that drew a warm red trickle that would no doubt stain the lush carpet underneath them at the end of its descent. 

Trip knew this, and yet with the red-tinged blur of navy and flaxen that was now his field of vision, he searched desperately, as he always did, for any kind of emotion, for any other alternate reason as to why this kept happening other than that he never stopped it. 

It was useless, foolish, and that was yet another thing he knew for certain; he could feel the cool, level blue gaze that was asessing him from behind smart frames from the others vantage point atop his hips even at this moment, could picture it in his head clearly enough that it almost mirrored what he would have seen, had he had the ability to do so correctly at the moment. 

"I....." he managed to choke out, overwhelmed by the feeling he had no name for, apart from the common one he had taken to using, as it swept over him, and the hands around hs neck loosened, as they always did when he spoke his broken phrase that indicated that for now, he had had enough. 

"I love you, Virus." 

An audible laugh, and the hands removed themselves completely, the weight and heat of the older male disappearing and leaving Trip to feel alone and cold on the floor, and a voice, smooth as silk and chilled like ice, rang out through the stillness of the room.

"I'm aware."


End file.
